


Smoke Break

by fucker



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Leap of Faith - Menken/Slater/Cercone
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22148626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fucker/pseuds/fucker
Summary: A quick fifteen turns into a twenty-five.
Relationships: Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr./Jonas Nightingale
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	Smoke Break

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nevadatrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevadatrash/gifts).



**Jonas:** thinking about last night  
  
**Jonas:** [Image attachment]  
  


Sonny opened the message like an idiot and was met with a surprisingly tasteful picture of Jonas sprawled out in bed, one palm splayed flat in the center of his chest and fingers resting just shy of the pair of bruises that Sonny had left on the outer edge of his right pectoral. He clearly hadn't showered yet— his hair was unstyled, still mussed from sleeping _and_ , Sonny's brain ever-so-helpfully reminded him, _last night's playful roughhousing. Among last night's other things_. Two neat curls of chest hair were sticking up between his fingers, so perfect that Sonny had to wonder if he'd purposefully adjusted them to lay like that, and his tongue was pinned between his teeth in that infuriatingly smug, mischievous grin of his. 

The frame ended just above his belly button, but Sonny's mind was quick to fill in the rest: solid hips, built from years of dancing and wide enough to add that tiny amount of trademark swagger to his walk. Thick, muscular thighs to match— Sonny had done a number on both last night, and they were no doubt still sporting marks. He quickly imagined a sheet into existence and dropped it over Jonas's lap, forcefully steering his train of thought away from that particular stop before he got himself into a situation. 

Jonas's knees were bruised and slightly scuffed, healing after their hot, frantic night together almost a week ago. The reverend had taken Sonny without protest that first night— his mouth, then his virgin ass, then his mouth a second time when they'd ended up in the shower together. If he concentrated, Sonny could still feel the weight of Jonas's cock on his tongue; warm, the tiniest bit salty, and thick enough that he could just barely begin to curl his tongue upwards around it.

Sonny had really, _truly_ intended to show up in uniform and give Jonas a formal warning in the hopes of scaring him off. He’d practiced his spiel a dozen times in the car, twice more in the elevator, and again standing in the hall outside Jonas's room, and every last word had disappeared from his memory without a trace the second that the reverend opened the door. They hadn't made it to the bed. The cheap nylon carpet was less than forgiving, and while Sonny made out with nothing more than sore elbows, Jonas had taken a good deal more damage. Entirely his fault for being such an aggressive... _the word_ cocksucker _came to mind; far too vulgar for Sonny to ever consider saying aloud, but that was exactly what Jonas had done, and done mindblowingly well_.

Sonny’s phone buzzed again and he snapped out of it with a start, blushing slightly. 

**Jonas:** I know you are too, sheriff  
  


Technically he wasn't thinking about last night. He didn't take the bait, but he _did_ save the picture to his phone. 

**S:** How are you still in bed?  
  


_In_ my _bed_ , he thought, but didn't add. That in and of itself was a small victory; this dangerously charming, cocky man somehow agreeing to stay the night with a smalltown nobody cop. Whether Jonas was simply an open book completely unafraid of being read or whether the whole persona was a convincing act to hide some underlying insecurity, he came across as someone who knew that he could have whoever he wanted whenever he wanted. Someone who wasn't used to hearing 'no'. Impossible to tie down, but Sonny had somehow held onto him for this long, and he couldn't help but feel a small swell of pride seeing Jonas stretched out in _his_ sheets, in _his_ bed, with _his_ pillow tucked under his head. 

**Jonas:** you wore me out  
  
**Jonas:** come on, ask to see the rest. I'm not shy ;)  
  


_Christ_ , did Sonny know how true that was. He tried not to think of the various and increasing states of undress that he'd found Jonas in every time he'd shown up at the reverend's hotel. He tried not to picture him in those perfectly fitted jeans, fly unbuttoned to just below his balls, forcing everything both upwards and forward. A makeshift push-up bra for his package, really, although he certainly didn't need it. And Sonny _desperately_ tried to block out the memory that was single-handedly capable of doing him in— Jonas spread-eagled on the floor of his hotel room, barefoot and wearing nothing but those same jeans; legs apart, hands folded behind his head, and waiting patiently for Sonny to make the first move. 

It was difficult to type with his hands shaking as hard as they were, but Sonny managed a simple sentence.

**S:** Not a chance.  
  
**Jonas:** you're no fun, you know that?  
  
**Jonas:** [Image attachment]  
  


Another picture. Same angle, lower frame— no face this time, the image cut off just above his chin, but Sonny could tell that Jonas was still grinning just from the angle of his jaw. The other end of this one was conveniently cropped _right_ where the sheets began to bunch up at the reverend's waist, directly through the middle of a generous fold in a way that made it impossible to tell if that was Jonas under there or just an innocent handful of cotton. Not knowing was somehow worse than getting a picture of a full-frontal, hard, smug Jonas while he was at work. He scowled at the screen, as if he wasn't the one at fault for continuing to open these messages.

Sonny's phone buzzed yet again before he could reply; a FaceTime request rather than a text this time. _No way in hell are you going to answer that_ , he told himself sternly, fingers still itching to swipe the green button regardless. Impressive restraint, especially for him, but true to form, his willpower took next to no wearing down— Sonny was up out of his chair the instant Jonas called again, reaching for his coat as he tapped out a one-handed reply. 

**S:** Christ sake, at least let me get to my car first  
  


* * *

He'd barely settled into the driver's seat before his phone rang a third time. He gave himself a quick once-over in the tiny mirror, brushing a few stray hairs back into place and unbuttoning his top two buttons. Nothing he could do about the embarrassing flush he was sporting, but maybe Jonas wouldn't notice. He took two deep breaths and accepted the call. 

_"Finally."_

Sonny was treated to a great view; tasteful high angle, wide frame, lots of bare skin on display. Not at all what he'd been expecting, but certainly a welcome surprise. He struggled to fix his features into a scowl. "What do you want, Jonas? You know I'm at work."

 _"Just wanted to see you."_ Jonas squinted at the camera, then grinned. _"You look a little hot under the collar, Sheriff."_

"Yeah, well," Sonny's scowl faltered as Jonas shifted; the camera dipping towards his waist, then bobbing back up to his chest. "You're not the one getting half-naked pics of a traveling man of God over the work wi-fi."

 _"Aw, you've got it all wrong. I'm a man of the_ people _, Sonny. And I'm a whole lot more than half-naked,"_ he added with a laugh.

The pointed inflection on 'people' had a greater effect on him than he'd care to admit. His pants had been uncomfortably tight even before he'd made it to his car, but that deliberate emphasis made him throb hard enough that the fabric pinching his tender skin finally started to become unbearable. He pulled his trousers away from his thigh and loosened his belt, swearing to himself that that was as far as he'd go while knowing full well that it was a lie. 

_"You were so good last night."_

Sonny had no idea how to respond to that. His cock was certainly confident in its response, twitching and straining against the leg of his trousers, but beyond that he was lost. 

_"Jesus, you've been good every night, who am I kidding."_

It had taken him this long to notice, but Sonny finally realized that Jonas's free arm was slowly but steadily moving. Even, measured, his left bicep flexing ever so slightly in a perfect rhythm. Sonny was suddenly _desperate_ to see what was taking place just out of frame, and he tilted his phone as if that would somehow reflect on Jonas's end and change his viewing angle for the better. 

_"Come on, talk to me."_

"Talk to you?" Sonny couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. "You're the one that called me at work at eleven o'clock in the morning to jack off."

 _"Mmm."_ Jonas closed his eyes for a moment. _"I can work with that, keep going."_

"Jesus Christ, Jonas." Sonny could feel heat beginning to creep down his neck, and he found himself regretting the decision to unbutton his shirt as far as he had. "You're disgusting."

_"I can do disgusting if that's what you like, Sheriff. Come home and I'll show you."_

"Why don't you show me now?"

_"Takes two people."_

Sonny’s mind instantly took that and ran with it, bombarding him with a hundred different scenarios that might be considered disgusting all at once. Some mildly unsavory, some downright obscene, but to his dismay, several of the more tame ones were actually palatable. A few even _interested_ him, and he didn't want to analyze any of that right now or ever in a million years. 

"At least show me _something_."

_"You first."_

"I'm sitting in the parking lot at work," Sonny protested, tilting his phone so that Jonas could see the station in the background. 

_"Oh, that's a shame."_

The camera moved away from Jonas's body to center on his face, and that was more of a loss than Sonny cared to admit. 

"Wait, hold on. Fine." He tilted his seat far enough back that he could get an angle on his lap and still see the screen. It took some maneuvering and a bit of craning his neck against the window, but he finally managed to get a decent shot of his hard-on, trapped against his thigh and straining against his inseam to the point where almost a full print was visible. 

Jonas let out a low whistle. _"Poor Sonny Junior suffocating in those pants like that. I'd be happy to come down and give him mouth-to-mouth if you want, just say the word."_

The idea of Jonas fucking him at work— _blowing him, whatever_ — was more than Sonny could handle right now. He quickly deflected so he didn't have to think about it. "Deal's a deal, your turn."

_"My turn."_

Sonny knew exactly what to expect, and yet his jaw dropped as he found himself looking at Jonas's body in profile. It was nothing he hadn't already seen, but the combination of Jonas being in his bed, of the rumpled sheets and the midday sunlight filtering in through the curtains, of the halo that it created down the full length of his torso when it shone through his hair, highlighting the continuous motion of the reverend's chest that he hadn't been able to see from above, the rhythmic tightening, over and over as he stroked his cock— it was everything that Sonny would have fantasized about and then some, except this wasn't a fantasy. His palms were suddenly very wet and his mouth very dry. 

"Wow. Jesus."

_"Not quite, but I appreciate the sentiment."_

"You're— I mean," Sonny searched through his vocabulary for something a little more intimate than 'hot' and a little more meaningful than 'sexy' and came up empty-handed. "Hot isn't the right word, but—"

_"Just what every man loves to hear."_

"Beautiful." Jonas froze. Only for half a second, but Sonny didn't miss the tiny hitch. He couldn't help the self-satisfied rush that hit him as he watched the reverend's hand stutter on his cock, caught off-guard by Sonny's genuine praise. He said nothing, simply storing that information away for another time. "God, I can't wait to get my mouth on you."

_"Yeah? Tell me where."_

"Anywhere. Everywhere. Your neck, your shoulders, your chest, your— your..."

_"Go ahead, you can say it."_

"...Your dick." Sonny blushed. His affinity for that particular part of Jonas's body had become very clear over the past several days, but he’d only ever confessed to it drunk, his face buried in Jonas's shoulder in the dark with the blinds drawn and the lights off. Saying it to the reverend's face was awful, humiliating, and yet somehow thrilling at the same time.

Jonas knew exactly how it made him feel, and he _liked_ it. He was smirking, though more to himself than anything, and Sonny was grateful it wasn't directed at him. Yet, anyway. He watched Jonas's hand speed up, pumping his cock at a pace that would've had Sonny coming in a matter of seconds. The reverend took it just fine, though, his hips thrusting off the bed a few times in quick succession as he adjusted to the new rhythm. A soft grunt was the only indication that anything had even changed, and Sonny cursed quietly as he found himself wondering how long Jonas could keep this up.

_"Who knew you liked to watch?"_

"Getting to watch is just a bonus. Doesn't take more than looking at you to get me hard, and you know it."

 _"Mmm,"_ Jonas agreed. _"Fuck, do I know it. I loved seeing you try to sit through that one show the night after I fucked you, acting like you weren't about to cream your pants just from looking."_

"Wasn't just from looking," Sonny mumbled, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself.

_"No? Enlighten me."_

"Enlighten you? You'd promised to take me back to your room afterwards and, what was it, 'stuff my throat', I believe you said?"

 _"Oh, yeah,"_ Jonas grinned, the camera shaking slightly as he let out a silent laugh. _"I did say that, didn't I."_

It hadn't been an empty promise, either. Sonny had been on his knees at the edge of Jonas's bed not even an hour after the show had ended, a makeshift blindfold tied around his eyes as the reverend had talked him through his first time deepthroating another man. His throat hadn't necessarily been _stuffed_ , but it had certainly been breached; Jonas encouraging him with a steady stream of profanity as he'd managed to hold back his gag reflex for longer and longer, the reverend throbbing in his tight airway each time with mixed praise and curses.

Sonny licked his lips, eyes fixed on the screen and half-hypnotized by the steady movement of Jonas's fist up and down his shaft, remembering the way Jonas had tasted that night— slightly salty on the very back of his tongue, barely there at all until he'd started leaking precome. Sonny had been hesitant at first, licking tentatively at the clear fluid with the very tip of his tongue— he'd never tasted his own, so it was a pleasant surprise to find that it really had no flavor beyond mildly saline. The rest had gone down easy, more dripping onto his tongue every time Jonas had pulled out of his throat to let him breathe, and a warm, salty flood of it just before the reverend pulled away to finish on his chest. He’d tasted that, too, straight from Jonas's fingers.

Technically they'd shared, he supposed. For as much come as Sonny had licked from the reverend's fingers, Jonas had cleaned as much, if not more, from Sonny's body with his own tongue. And he'd taken his sweet time, too, knowing full well that the sheriff hadn't finished yet. Sonny shivered at the memory. He couldn't help it; he slid his free hand up the inside of his thigh to his neglected erection, burning hot, squashed against his thigh and smothered by his khakis. The first brush of his fingers over his painfully sensitive crown opened a floodgate somewhere, and he shuddered with a moan as the last ten minutes' worth of precome leaked into his boxers all at once.

_"You really do like thinking about having a cock in your mouth, don't you?"_

Jonas, nearly forgotten on the other end of the call, may have misinterpreted that moan, but he certainly wasn't wrong and Sonny _definitely_ wasn't about to update him on the situation. "I know I like thinking about yours."

_"It's hot being your first, you know."_

"You're just saying that."

_"Mhmm. I'm also lying when I say that I love how much sucking me off gets you going."_

That much wasn't a lie, and Sonny knew it. Jonas had praised him time and again for the way he sucked cock like his life depended on it, drooling and gagging in his overeagerness to get _more_ of Jonas into his mouth. He didn't stop on his own, so absorbed in what he was doing that he would choke the reverend's length down over and over until Jonas either came or pulled him off.

_"Think you could come with me fucking your face and nothing else?"_

_Yes_ , Sonny thought. "I don't know, only one way to find out," he said. 

_"I like the sound of that. When do you get off? Other than when I'm in your mouth, I mean. Or your tight—"_

"Five." He wasn't about to let Jonas finish that sentence. "Five, but it's Friday. I can get out of here by three, pick some food up, be home by quarter of four."

_"Fuck the food. Make it quarter past three and I'll take you out to dinner after you swallow my load."_

"Jesus." If Sonny hadn't been fantasizing about Jonas's come before, he certainly was now. He was going on ten hours without a taste, and beginning to think that maybe he had a bit of an addiction. "Quarter past three. You're buying me a drink with dinner."

 _"As many as you want,"_ Jonas promised. _"And if you invite me back to your place after dinner you can have whatever you want for dessert, too."_

"Your come," Sonny blurted, instantly reddening as Jonas's eyes widened. His eyes flicked to the red end button, but there was really no going back on that one. His brain didn't let him leave it at that, either; unwelcome nervous, embarrassed energy forcing him to elaborate. "For dessert, I mean. Uh, please."

_"Fuck, ask me again."_

"No." Sonny scowled, his ears burning.

_"Come on, ask for it again, Sheriff."_

"I took a fifteen, so you have about two minutes before I leave you high and dry."

_"You know I'm not gonna let this go, but since I know how much you love it..."_

Jonas dropped his phone and Sonny was shuffled noisily around in the sheets for a minute while the reverend readjusted. When the camera cleared, he found himself at a very familiar angle; the phone propped up between Jonas's legs as he knelt over it, his cock front and center. Sonny swallowed hard, eyeing the precome that had streaked down the underside of Jonas's head. His mouth was watering despite the obvious impossibility of what his tongue wanted, desperate for just one tiny taste. 

The reverend's fist sped up and Sonny suddenly realized what was about to happen, his breath hitching as Jonas gave himself a handful of quick, rough strokes, squeezed hard, and shot his load across the phone. Sonny moaned out loud, instinctively opening his mouth as come splattered across the camera, completely obscuring the scene, but not before he saw Jonas's mouth twist into that infuriating smirk. 

The opaque grey that was Sonny's view became more and more translucent as the mess Jonas had made slowly dripped down the phone, and Sonny thought for a moment that maybe it would clear, at least enough to catch a blurry glimpse of Jonas in that beautiful post-orgasm state that suited him so well— eyes closed, hands and legs trembling, broad chest heaving as he caught his breath. He would've started the car and sped home if he didn't know firsthand how fast Jonas recovered. The camera had _just_ started to clear when Jonas hung up, and Sonny barely refrained from letting every curse in his vocabulary fly. 

His phone buzzed one last time with a consolation prize; another text.

**Jonas:** don't worry, I saved plenty for you ;)  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to [message](https://fuckerao3.tumblr.com/ask) or [DM](https://www.tumblr.com/message/fuckerao3) me with questions, suggestions, or requests (no promises), or if you'd like to beta!


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